


Taiyou

by SummonerYuki



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, relationship building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummonerYuki/pseuds/SummonerYuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He loves you like the sun loves the moon. For this, you are grateful to him.</p><p>A short and pointless, fluffy rambling while trying to get out of writer's block. No smut, surprisingly, just light implications.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taiyou

He loves you like the sun loves the moon. When he gazes at you, so lovingly and longingly, you feel as though you might be a flower instead, turned towards the brightness he emits. He’s your better half, your sun.

He’s brash and he’s bold and he likes to talk loudly and stupidly. These are all things you hate, but in him, you found yourself intrigued. This cowboy from the Northern region, with his obnoxious drawl and undignified style, kept you up at night from the moment you met him.

Getting to know him wasn’t difficult—he was a self-proclaimed open book—but you felt it was difficult to return the openness he proffered to you. Where he excelled in speaking and making others laugh, you felt you were reserved and socially uneducated. You tried to give yourself more credit. You hadn’t been raised with Western views, hadn’t been allowed by your family to express yourself as freely as he did, but even if you tried to reason with yourself like this you still felt stunted. A flowering plant with no buds in sight.

Regardless, he always heard you, no matter how quiet you were. You liked it best when the two of you were alone, when you felt you could speak a little more freely. It delighted you when you could make him laugh. The tone of his voice when he did so was soothing to you, made you feel like home. Sometimes he would sit with you in your tatami-matted room, letting you sip at your tea while he took swigs at a flask he kept under his poncho, and something about the atmosphere warmed you to your very core.

You hadn’t been able to place this feeling as love until you thought it could be taken away from you.

Every day was a risk, and there was no one in the lot of you that thought otherwise. Every day was a battle, every day an opportunity to never return home. You never worried about yourself regardless. You’d made it this far in life, you figured, and there wasn’t much you felt you couldn’t get out of. You were safe on your perches, gazing down at the enemy from above, hidden in the shadows.

The gunslinger was just the opposite.

Whooping and hollering, he let his presence be known, and he used the resulting confusion to get the jump on his enemies. You often observed him while he carried out his unique brand of battle, rolling back and forth around the battlefield, throwing stun grenades and emptying his clip and generally having what seemed to be a great time. This was a near everyday occurrence, and you enjoyed watching him.

It was incredible to you how quickly danger could strike.

The day was supposed to be like any other: escort the payload, secure it at the checkpoint, and return home. Your cowboy, in a white poncho to blend with the mountains and snow, yelled and screamed and flashbanged and shot while you clung to a nearby watchtower against the frozen wind. It seemed routine, but muffled against the dense snow, the gunslinger’s shouts were like a beacon.

You saw the sniper not a moment too late. In that one instant, you had been filled with fear, the kind that you’d only felt once before in your entire life.

Like that time, you raised your bow.

_“Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!”_

A single shot had cracked through the mountains, but the sniper had missed her mark, her bullet embedding into the cowboy’s shoulder just inches above his heart. You had almost collapsed, trembling from the sudden weakness in your knees. You’d watched the sniper’s body fall from the mountains to assure yourself that the threat had been eliminated.

The payload was delivered, and your bleeding ally had been transported to the base hospital.

It took you a few days to build up the courage to visit him, and when Dr. Ziegler gently reminded you that he’d be released soon, you went to the store to grab a bottle of his favorite liquor and steeled yourself. A few friends were leaving his room before you entered, and you overheard the nurse shooing them out and complaining about how much company the man had gotten.

You couldn’t really say you were surprised, but it made your stomach flip-flop.

Vases full of flowers were set all around his room, and the hospital recovery room smelled like a greenhouse as you walked in. He called out to you immediately, smiling that radiant smile—the one that showed all his teeth and made his beard look crooked—and beckoned you over. You waited until the nurse left to pull the blinds to give him the alcohol. He almost cried, emptying his cup of hospital gelatin into the trash to use the container. He handed you the glass cup that had come with his food without a second thought. You smiled when he patted the edge of his bed, inviting you up to sit with him and drink.

You weren’t going to say anything about it, but the moment the drinks were poured, he toasted you with his plastic gelatin cup. He thanked you for saving his life and told you about how everyone had shared with him how heroic you’d been. You didn’t know what to say, but the look on his face was so grateful and caring that couldn’t help yourself when the tears came. He’d laughed at you, and you’d tried to speak, but as inept as you already were at talking you couldn’t even begin to put into words what you were feeling.

You were able to place the feeling as love when he had leaned forward and kissed you.

The days had felt a little warmer after that. The sun shone brightly on you, and laughing came easier.

Now he’s inseparable from you, and it’s understood that if you found one the other was not far behind. Even though he knows it’s embarrassing, he likes being loud about your relationship, and he likes to talk about your accomplishments to complete strangers and spin tall tales to friends. Secretly your favorite was when he tried to convince some of his friends that you had saved his life by shooting the sniper’s arm off and then punching her right off a cliff. He showed off his scar every chance he got, dramatically pulling down his shirt and making you blush, while others just howled at him to put his tit away. He would always laugh and make fun of every single one who didn’t believe him, telling them that you were his hero in more ways than one.

A couple years later, he would get the kanji of your name tattooed beneath his scar.

Getting to know him is like a game to you. You observe him quietly every day, noticing all the small things: the way he chews on the inside of his mouth whenever his cigar is absent, the way he strikes his heel too hard when he walks to make his spurs announce his arrival, the way he seeks you out in a room first before loosening his shoulders. Some things he tells you: his favorite breakfast is eggs, toast, bacon, and hashbrowns (whatever those are). He can play the guitar fairly well. He’s more of a dog person than a cat person. You try to look for the personality traits and the quirks that match with these preferences, just for fun. He likes trying to get to know you better too in the form of asking silly and random questions, but mostly he just lets you take your time. For as much talking as he does, you find he is a wonderful listener as well.

He likes it when you talk to your brother, even when he knows it pains you at times. He thinks it’s healthy to reconnect with your family. Though he’s only mentioned it once, you know he has a sister, and it hurts him not to be close to her. He’d had to let her go years before when Overwatch had been dismantled and destroyed, for her own protection. Sometimes when he’s dead drunk you can find him holding onto a locket necklace, and though you’ve always been curious, you could never bring yourself to take it from him and open it. You’re pretty sure there’s a picture of her in there. But some things are better left undisturbed, you think. Either way, he’s felt the need to pester you to speak to your brother every once in a while, and you do it both to please him and your younger sibling. You feel more at peace with yourself whenever you give in.

For this, you are grateful to him.

He likes to make cheesy jokes, and is the master of presenting them at the most inopportune moments. On the battlefield, at the infirmary, during quiet hours in the housing complex, in bed. There had been more than one time you both had almost been caught because your voice could be heard laughing from his quarters in the small hours of the night. He quite prided himself on those unintelligent puns, you thought, but though you certainly found them funny, your favorite hobby in bed was to cut them off. Nothing was as satisfying to you as derailing him. The easygoing gunslinger, so dedicated to his character, cutting off his own tawdry jokes to gasp or bite his lip or choke on his tongue.

Yes, you quite enjoyed it when you could shut him up, even more so when you could make him moan.

Outside of physical pleasure, you _loved_ the way he made you felt. You’d never had much opportunity to pursue romance in your previous life, so while everything should have been foreign and actually quite scary to you, he made you feel _powerful._ He made you feel like you were in control at any given moment, that you called the shots, that you set the boundaries. He was understanding and yielding while not being lackadaisical. In the sheets you were equivalent—sometimes he told you what he wanted, and other times you could be coaxed into revealing what you desired—but the overall flow was up to you. If you weren’t comfortable he slowed, and if you were embarrassed or hesitant, he stopped. You’d never felt so sexual, so incredibly _satisfied_ in your entire life.

And for that, you were grateful to him.

He is your sun, just as you are his moon. Just like the celestial bodies keeping each other in balance, so too did you survive with each other.

You were his moon and he was your sun, and though you thrived in darkness, you prayed he never set.

**Author's Note:**

> For those not enrolled in anime school, "taiyou" = "sun" :) I love these two so much.


End file.
